


your heart is a muscle

by krashlyntome (bestthreemonths)



Series: safe haven [2]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestthreemonths/pseuds/krashlyntome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to starting a family, plans rarely shake out the way they're supposed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart is a muscle

With Ali playing professional soccer and Ashlyn doing her best to keep her head above water, even after getting married, babies have always been a long way off, something to think about down the road. One day Ashlyn’s student loans would be paid off and Ali would be home more than 100 days out of the year and they could start a family. But, as so many straight couples know, sometimes families take on a timeline of their own.

Ashlyn thinks later maybe it was all part of Ali’s master plan from the first innocent suggestion that they take a weekend trip to visit Safe Haven. Somehow she must have known that Beth would bring up the renovations to Honeysuckle House, that Ashlyn would ask if they could go see how it looks now.

They've been back to visit plenty of times, but the nursery staff changes constantly, so they spend the majority of their time catching up with the people who shaped their childhoods instead of visiting the chaos of the Honeysuckle House.

Almost as soon as they walk in, Ali is drawn to a tiny baby boy in a bassinet, who she carries in her arms as they walk through the house. Ashlyn notices the way she bends her head down to sniff the baby’s head, quickly so as not to draw attention to herself.

After the tour, she can't let go. When Ali tries (however begrudgingly) to put the baby down or hand him off to someone else, he screams and cries until he's back in her arms.

Ashlyn sits on the couch beside Ali, who has clearly surrendered her entire heart and soul to the child, and says one word when Ali looks up at her with longing in her eyes.

“No.”

“But—”

“Alex.” Her tone is final.

Ali pouts, turning her attention back to the baby. He's two months old and his name is Isaiah, the nursery director tells them. There's more to his story, but that's all Ali needs to know, cooing his name to him over and over.

She has to get up to go to the bathroom, and Ashlyn knows it's probably their only chance to extract the baby from Ali’s grasp, let him cry it out, and escape. But when Ali hands him over, he doesn't cry. His enormous brown eyes stare directly into Ashlyn’s, and his tiny hands wrap around her thumb, pulling as hard as he can to bring it to his mouth.

Ali’s face, eyebrow quirked, says it all, and before Ashlyn knows it, they're in their rental car whisper-yelling about how absurd it is to walk into a nursery and adopt the first baby they see. Besides, Ashlyn keeps reminding Ali, they don't even know if he's available.

“Parents come back for their kids every day,” Ashlyn says, and Ali’s jaw sets.

“They didn't come back for us,” she says.

“It's different and you know it.”

Ali stays quiet the whole ride back to the hotel, where she naps while Ashlyn showers and gets ready for dinner. They haven't had a real date night in ages, so Ashlyn wanted to take her to the Italian place they had gone when Ali first got her car.

When Ali wakes up, Ashlyn can tell she's trying to keep her mind off the baby and his caramel skin and curly hair and velvet cheeks, but she's quieter than usual.

It takes half an hour of painful small talk over their salads at the restaurant before Ashlyn brings him up.

“What would you do if I said right now, let's go get him?” Ashlyn asks.

Ali looks up, eyes wide. “What?”

“I want to know,” Ashlyn says. “We haven't talked about it. Not in any concrete way. How would we do it?”

“I mean, we’d have to go through some legal stuff I'm sure,” Ali says. “But if you're talking about how to actually raise a baby, I think the point is that you aren't ever going to be fully ready. But we can handle it financially, we have the room, we have a safe and loving home, plenty of people who love us and will help out.”

If Ali had it her way, they’d head straight to Safe Haven after dinner and pick him up, but of course it isn’t that easy. They agree to sleep on it and go home before making any rash decisions, but the process, which Ali stays up all night Googling, makes it incredibly difficult to make such a decision.

~

Adopting out of state is even harder than adopting in state, but Ali refuses to give up on Isaiah, so Ashlyn does everything she can to help. They go through the arduous process of becoming licensed for foster care and adoption, as that’ll be the most likely route they’ll have to take to get Isaiah, whose birth mother has been supportive of their endeavors since meeting them a few months in.

The nursery director, Camille, emails them pictures at least once a week, and they scour Safe Haven’s newsletters for grainy photos of him, running their thumbs over his sweet face as he grows in front of their eyes.

“I just want him here,” Ali cries one night when they’re sitting on the couch watching some TLC show about some unusual (but deliriously happy and rich) family. Ashlyn can’t really tell them apart anymore. “I feel like we’re missing out on so much of his life.”

It shouldn’t be long, their case worker keeps promising. They just have to wait on a few more things to be processed. Their home study was successful, everything is in order, now it’s just bureaucratic bullshit.

Ali is at camp when Ashlyn gets the call from Camille. “I’m so sorry, Ashlyn…” she begins, and Ashlyn knows telling Ali is going to be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

In retrospect, Ashlyn probably shouldn’t have started the call with a casual “hey sweetheart, got a minute?” and then told her she’d talked to Camille earlier. They usually email her, so a phone call suggests something more pressing. 

“No,” Ali breathes when Ashlyn tells her the news.

Isaiah’s mother had been released early because of good behavior and new details in her case that lessened the punishment. One of her first stops was to Safe Haven to pick up Isaiah and bring him home. There was nothing they could legally do to stop her. Everything she’d signed was contingent on her being unable to care for him while in prison, and they had nothing more than a handshake and mutual understanding about anything beyond that.

Ashlyn has never felt more powerless in her life than she does when she has to listen to Ali sob through the phone for an hour before finally falling asleep, having exerted all her emotional and physical energy. Ashlyn listens to her breathe for ten more minutes, squeezing her eyes shut and pretending she’s right next to her.

It doesn’t get easier when Ali gets home, but Ashlyn at least gets to hold her when she cries. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, and other times it feels so real that the pain is unbearable and she swears she’s going to die.

One day Ali gets through the day without thinking about him or crying, and it’s not perfect, but it’s progress. Another day, she smiles when she comes across a picture of him on her phone. On a day Ashlyn thought would never come, Ali says she’s ready to try again.

This time it’s just barely easier. They decide to try a more local adoption or foster situation to cut down on the hoops they have to jump through. As much as they’d love to adopt a child from Safe Haven, they wouldn’t trade their childhoods for anything, and they know there are kids in far worse situations in their own backyard.

Ashlyn hands out cards to people in line at the grocery store, telling them to keep her and Ali in mind if they come across anyone who finds themselves in a situation where they can’t care for a child. They stay open to any kind of fostering, even though they both dread the potential heartbreak of loving a child like they love Isaiah and having the child taken away from them, even if it’s for the best.

Some people get in touch, only to have the arrangement fall through for one reason or another. Ali and Ashlyn learn again and again not to get their hopes up, but every time it’s the same. When it finally does happen, Ali says, it’ll be so perfect they’ll understand why everything else fell through.

It’s the middle of March when they have their breakthrough. Tax season is going into full effect, and the firm requires all hands on deck, so Ashlyn starts working longer hours than usual to get every client in.

The receptionist, Patsy, buzzes Ashlyn when Ali stops by with a home-cooked meal for dinner during Ashlyn’s last appointment of the day with Marci Stewart, a teacher at the local high school, who says she doesn’t mind being interrupted because she can hear Ashlyn’s stomach growling.

“Hi,” Ali says, cautiously peeking her head into the office.

“Hey,” Ashlyn says, standing up to greet her with a quick hug, careful to remain professional. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.”

“I couldn’t let you starve,” Ali laughs. “Do you know when you’ll be home?”

“As soon as I can,” Ashlyn replies. “I’ll text you if it’s going to be too late. If you’re tired, don’t worry about waiting up.”

“You know I will,” Ali says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t forget to eat. I worked hard.”

“I know,” Ashlyn laughs, opening the door to her office to let her out. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Sorry about that,” Ashlyn says when Ali’s gone.

“Don’t be,” Marci says. “You make a beautiful couple. I can’t remember the last time my husband did something like that for me.” She laughs. “Then again, we have a few decades on you two.”

Ashlyn smiles. “She’s a keeper,” she says.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Practically our whole lives,” Ashlyn laughs, turning her attention back to the forms in front of her. As nice as Marci may be, Ashlyn is sure she’d rather go home than stay listening to her long-winded story, but Marci keeps pressing.

“How did you meet?”

Ashlyn warns her plenty of times that it’s a bit of a long story, but Marci doesn’t care, and before Ashlyn realizes, it’s 8 p.m. and she’s spilled her heart out to this woman. She’s starting to regret not kissing Ali goodbye because this conversation goes well beyond professional.

When Marci asks about their plans for a family, Ashlyn winces, but she says they haven’t really gotten there. She doesn’t take into consideration that Marci is literally a high school teacher who has spent 30 years learning how to see through lies like that.

“Do you have one of those cards with you?” Marci asks when Ashlyn tells her about all their latest tactics.

“Um, yeah,” Ashlyn says, fishing around in her top drawer to hand one over. “Do you know someone?”

“I might,” Marci says. “I just need to check with her first. I’ll be in touch as soon as I do, though, one way or another.”

Ali’s in bed when Ashlyn gets home, but she isn’t asleep.

“What took you so long?” she mumbles, rolling over when Ashlyn opens the door.

Ashlyn crawls in beside her to give her the kiss she’s been waiting all day for. “All good things, promise,” she whispers. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

They don’t talk in the morning because Ashlyn sleeps through her alarm and has to grab a banana and speed to work to be on time for her first meeting of the day. Every day is the same during tax season, nonstop appointments from sun up to sun down, barely any time to eat or breathe or check emails, but she clears her calendar for a working lunch with Ali, thanking God for a patient and understanding wife who is happy to be in her presence even if they’re eating in silence while Ashlyn checks her email.

“Oh my God,” Ashlyn breathes, looking up at Ali, who hasn’t seemed to notice, probably thinking it has something to do with taxes and boring forms and the IRS. “Alex.”

“What?” Ali asks, mouth full.

“I might have found us a baby.”

~

The mother is a junior in Marci’s English class, a girl named Simone who she’s always had a soft spot for. Her home situation is far from ideal, Marci explains, but she’s a hard worker with a bright future. She’s just begun her second trimester when she reaches out to Ashlyn on Marci’s suggestion. She hasn’t quite decided what to do with the baby yet, but she agrees to meet with them, Marci tagging along for moral support.

Ali’s shaking when they sit down at the cafe, so Ashlyn takes the coffee from her and switches it with a bottle of water. It feels like yet another meeting with another case worker or state employee trying to find any reason not to give them a baby (or so it seems), but Simone seems just as nervous to meet them as they are to meet her.

Ashlyn starts by asking about her, making small talk and squeezing Ali’s hand under the table. It only lasts a few minutes before Simone asks a real question.

“Why do you want my baby?” she asks.

Ashlyn’s heart jumps to her throat, but Ali calms visibly as she opens her mouth to answer.

“We want you to make the best choice for you and your baby,” Ali says. “We want a family, and we want to provide a loving home to any child who needs it. Maybe that’s your baby, but maybe it’s not. We both grew up in foster care, so we know from experience how much of a blessing it is. We want to pay it forward.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to decide,” Simone says. “I’m worried I’m going to make a decision and then regret it and not be able to do anything about it.”

Ali nods. “It’s your decision,” she says. “You’re brave. And based on what we’ve heard so far, you’re smart and kind and loving. No matter what you decide, I know it’ll be the best decision for you. But we want you to know we’re an option. We live here, and you’d always be welcome as part of our family.”

Simone nods, tears in her eyes. Ashlyn folds her hands over the folder on the table, filled with papers and logistical things, but it’ll stay untouched for this meeting. She knows there’s no rush, no need to inundate the poor girl with those things when she’s already so overwhelmed with the emotional toll of choosing the best path for her unborn child.

Instead, they chat. Simone learns about their love story and Ali’s soccer career (“I knew you looked familiar!”), and they learn about Simone’s favorite subjects in school (English, but then again, Marci is right there) and plans for the future (college, she hopes, but she isn’t sure where yet).

Ali is weirdly calm when they leave, despite not having really made any progress toward anything tangible, but when they get to the car, she presses a firm kiss to Ashlyn’s lips and smiles. “That’s our baby,” she whispers.

~

After three more weekly meetings, some alone, some with lawyers, Simone makes her decision to place the baby with Ali and Ashlyn.

They know things could change and nothing is official till the baby is safely in their arms and in their home, but she lets them in as soon as she decides. They are in the doctor’s office holding her hand the first time she hears the baby’s heartbeat, when she finds out it’s a girl, when the baby kicks for the first time (a fluke, as it happens in the middle of a random lunch).

She also lets them in when her ex tries to dissuade her from giving “their” baby to two women instead of a “proper home.” It hurts Ashlyn to her core, and Ali has her fair share of choice words when they two of them are alone, but they work through it with her, and Simone assures them that her choice hasn’t changed.

Naturally, just when everything seems to be smooth sailing, Ashlyn gets yet another call that changes everything. She’s on a beach jog, enjoying the “off season” for accounting, when Camille calls her out of the blue.

“Alex!” she calls, practically running into the house. “Alex, where are you?”

“I’m right here!” Ali exclaims, running down the stairs. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and has yellow paint in her hair from painting the nursery. “What’s wrong?” she asks, taking in Ashlyn’s disheveled appearance.

“Nothing,” Ashlyn says. “It’s Isaiah.”

“What?” Ali breathes.

Tears fill Ashlyn’s eyes as she catches her breath. “His mom,” she says. “She…”

“Ashlyn, talk to me,” Ali says patiently, her heart racing as she prepares to hear the worst. If something awful happened, it’s just cruel to tell Ali and Ashlyn after they tried so hard to give him a safe home.

“There was an accident,” Ashlyn says. She doesn’t have to elaborate, Ali’s eyes show that she understands. “He’s okay. She’s… not.”

“Okay,” Ali breathes. “What—why are you telling me? Who told you?”

“Camille,” Ashlyn says. “She called. Child Protective Services brought him back to stay while they wait for a foster home to open up.”

“What do we do?” Ali asks, tears flooding her eyes.

“We have 48 hours to decide,” Ashlyn says. “He’s ours if we want him.”

“Of course we do,” Ali says immediately, but her eyes flash with fear. “But the baby.”

“I know.”

“I think…” Ali says, choosing her words carefully. “We need to get him. He’s ours. He always has been.”

“I know,” Ashlyn says. “We need to talk to Simone.”

~

Their bags are packed in the backseat of Ashlyn’s Jeep, and Ali is a nervous wreck as they wait at the Starbucks across the street from Simone’s high school.

Simone’s grin is bright as ever when she walks in. It’s not the first time they’ve texted her out of the blue for a quick meeting. Usually they just want to feel the baby kick or toss around ideas about a baby shower. But when she sees their faces, her own falls.

Ashlyn is the only one who can speak, Ali too overcome with emotion to even open her mouth, and Simone nods silently as she explains.

“I understand,” Simone says slowly.

“Is… that okay?” Ashlyn asks.

“Yeah,” Simone says, and Ali breathes out a sigh of relief. “You guys have to do what’s right for you.” She chews at her lip, trying not to cry. “I’ll figure something out.”

“What?” Ashlyn asks, and Ali whips her head up. “What do you mean?”

“You have your hearts set on that baby,” Simone says. “I can’t hold that against you. You wanted him before you even knew about us.”

“Of course,” Ali says. “But we wanted to make sure it’s okay with you that we have another child when she’s born. We don’t want him instead of her. We love them both so much.”

Simone looks confused. “You still want her?”

“Of course,” Ashlyn says. “You’re allowed to change your mind, but we really hope you won’t.”

Simone lets the tears fall freely now. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ali breathes, shifting in her chair so she can reach Simone and rub her back soothingly. “I told you the first time we met that we would take a family in whatever way it came to us. This wasn’t exactly the plan from the start, but if this is how it’s happening, we’re going to roll with it.”

“Can I meet him?” Simone asks through the tears.

Ali laughs, wiping the wetness from her own cheeks. “Of course you can,” she says. “You’re part of this family now too.”

~

He’s so much bigger than they remember, and he doesn’t remember them at all, but he settles into Ali’s arms calmly when she picks him up. He can say “Mama,” but when he does, he’s not talking about them. He can walk, just a few steps at a time, but he can do it, and he doesn’t have the newborn smell Ali still remembers so vividly in the moments between sleeping and waking.

And yet it’s like no time has passed at all. Ali and Ashlyn are still so in love with him. There’s no way to make him make sense of any of this, so they brace themselves for a tough transition, but it doesn’t come. He’s an easygoing baby, even though he’s tucked into the crib intended for the baby sister he knows nothing about. He might not know they’re his mothers, but they’ll be damned if he doesn’t know he’s safe, loved, and cared for.

The first month is a marathon, because when they aren't at doctor’s appointments for Isaiah, they're at appointments for Simone and the baby, and when they aren't shopping for clothes for both children, they're shopping for furniture for yet another nursery.

“I guess this is why they say be careful what you wish for,” Ashlyn says as she rubs Ali’s back through a meltdown concerning what Ashlyn can't quite make out through the tears.

Nora Simone Krieger enters the world on September 4, a few weeks earlier than they would have liked, but she's strong and healthy despite practically fitting into the palm of Ashlyn’s hand. The hardest part of it all is the extra time she has to spend in the hospital, which equates to more time Simone has to change her mind, but she doesn't.

Ali and Ashlyn bring Isaiah to the hospital every day to see his sister. It's a lot of change in just a few months for him, and they don't think it'll sink in till she's home and waking them up every three hours to eat, but he can tell it’s special and important to his moms when he tries his best to say the word they've suddenly begun to say constantly: “Nona!” he announces proudly one morning while Ashlyn is changing his diaper.

“What's that, bubba?” Ashlyn asks.

“Nona!” he repeats, but she just grins and blows raspberries on his stomach.

It isn't until they finally bring her home and Ali can finally breathe, her nightmares about Simone saying “thanks but no thanks” finally dissipating, that they finally understand what he's babbling about.

“I love you,” Ashlyn murmurs, kissing Ali on the lips as she holds a sleeping Nora against her chest. Isaiah is on Ashlyn’s lap, sucking his thumb. They've tried to break him of the habit, but considering he wouldn't eat anything green for the first two months he was with them, it's a battle they'll save for another day.

“Luh you,” Isaiah mumbles around his thumb, which Ashlyn pulls out of his mouth.

“Say it again,” she says, poking him playfully in the belly.

“Luh you, Mama,” he says, breaking into a grin.

“Luh you too, baby,” Ashlyn mimics, kissing his forehead.

He struggles to sit up and lean toward Ali and the baby, but when he does, he presses a slobbery kiss to the back of Nora’s head and says it again. “Luh you, Nona.”


End file.
